Even Dust Was Made to Settle
by thebluefeather
Summary: "I was supposed to die tomorrow." Bellamy flicked his eyes up to meet hers and saw the flames reflected in their depths - they were hungry. "In that case, welcome to the rest of your life, Ginna Cook." / The Murderess of Mecha gets a second chance at life, and she'll be damned if she's going to let anyone stop her. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**I know. Another new story. My muse has ben all over the place lately. Apologies...sort of. So if this gets any attention, expect it to be continued. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100. No profit is being made from this work.**

**Warning: brief, teensy tiny mention of rape in this chapter. **

* * *

Chapter 1

_The Murderess of Mecha_

* * *

_..._

* * *

When Ginna was seven, she sliced her hand open on a kitchen knife. She cried, and there had been a lot of blood. It ran down her arm and dripped on the floor, making an enormous mess. Hours later, after her parents rushed her to Medical and demanded that Dr. Griffin see her _right away_, her mother cleaned that mess. When Ginna was twelve, she tripped while hanging around her father's work station in Mecha and busted the skin of her knee open on some discarded part that she never learned the name of. She cried, and there had been a lot of blood. The next day, after her knee had been stitched up by some friendly intern, she and her father worked side by side to scrub the floor.

Ginna was sixteen, and she'd just stabbed a man in the neck with a screwdriver. She wasn't crying, but there was more blood than she had ever seen in her life. She had made a mess that could not be cleaned up.

"Mom?" Ginna's voice was steady, but she made her way to her mother on shaky legs. "Mom, are you okay?"

Ella Cook was a beautiful woman, all bright eyes and shiny hair, and though the bruise rapidly blooming across her cheekbone did little to mar her beauty, the look of unadulterated horror on her face certainly did. She looked up to her daughter from her crouched position on the floor, and her words slipped out like broken glass. "What have you done?"

Ginna bristled at her mother's tone, and her hands clenched at her sides, her fingers wet and sticky. "I just saved you."

Ella rose to her feet and took a nervous step backward. She was visibly shaking, the reality of the situation beginning to set in. "I didn't need to be saved."

Ginna was desperate. The expression on her mother's face could not be directed at her. Her mother wasn't supposed to look at her like that. "He was raping you!" her voice echoed off the metal walls. The sound would bring people to investigate, but it didn't matter—there was no getting out of this. "He was hurting you."

"And I was letting him!" Ella's eyes were hard and terrified. "I was letting him _for you." _

Her words sucked the oxygen out of the air, reaching down Ginna's throat to steal her very breath from her lungs. Whoever said that the truth would set you free had never been faced with it.

_I didn't ask you to, _Ginna wanted to say. But that wasn't exactly true, was it? She didn't ask her not to, and that left her just as guilty. "I—I just couldn't _let _him do that to you. I…" _saw red. _The saying was true; she saw red, and the next thing she knew, the screwdriver was in his neck, and his blood was spraying across her face.

Ella began to cry, her eyes unable to resist the pull to flick towards the body on the floor.

Ginna opened her mouth to say something, _anything _to comfort her mother, but the sound of pounding footsteps coming down to hall silenced her words. What was left to say?

"I love you, baby girl," Ella said, finding the only words either of them needed.

"I love you, too, Mommy," Ginna whispered before turning to face the door and raising her bloody hands above her head.

* * *

…

* * *

_18 months later_

Ginna woke with a jolt—literally. Everything was shaking, and she couldn't breathe. Something was crushing her chest. Someone was speaking, the voice coming from everywhere, but her muddled brain couldn't seem to process the words.

"And Sleeping Beauty awakens!" exclaimed a voice on her right.

She forced her heavy eyelids open and saw her own chest. There was some sort of harness strapping her into her seat, but it was too tight, making it hard to breathe. Someone had dressed her in a slightly tattered orange jacket that clashed magnificently with her strawberry-blonde hair.

"It's about time," the voice on her right continued. She could tell now, it was male, but she just couldn't quite find the strength to turn her head to look. "I was worried they gave you too much sedative. All the other strugglers already woke up."

Finally—_finally—_she was able to make her muscles obey so she could lift her head. It was like someone had filled her skull with weights.

The boy next to her wore a green beanie and a charming smile.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice slurring he words slightly as she regained control of her tongue. Something in the back of her mind said she should know the answer to her question, but her memory was being stubbornly unhelpful.

"Wow, they really knocked you out," the boy chuckled. "Dropship to Earth? Possible death by radiation? Am I ringing any bells?"

He was. Now she remembered. She'd been in her cell, running her morning drill when the guards came. She kept track of the dates, and she _knew _she had one more day. So she struggled because _no one _was going to rob her of her last day alive. She'd gotten one of them in the nose, earning a satisfying crunch, but then it all went dark.

"I think they knocked me out before filling in any details," she murmured, looking around.

The dropship was filled with teens of all ages, all strapped into seats and wearing expressions ranging from trepidation to excitement. She didn't recognize any of them. And then the screens flickered to life.

_"Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now," _the Chancellor's voice crackled out over the speakers as he explained their fate.

Earth. They were going to Earth. But her mother was on the Ark. And Earth was soaked in radiation. She was going to die a day ahead of schedule. It seemed uncommonly cruel, somehow.

"Hey, watch this," said the boy with the beanie. His grin might have been infectious had she not been so pissed off. He unbuckled his harness, letting himself float out of his seat and across the dropship.

"Spacewalk bandit strikes again!" someone cheered as he did a flip in the air.

"Go Finn!"

He floated down to talk to some of the other teens, and a movement to Ginna's left caught her attention. There was a girl, impossibly young with blonde hair and a sweet face, and she was trying to get out of her seat.

"Hey, you two!" a blonde called from across the dropship, addressing two boys who had unstrapped as well, following Finn's example. "Stay put if you want to live!"

In response, Ginna clamped a hand down on the forearm of the girl beside her, stilling her movements. "Don't you dare."

The girl's eyes widened at her order that came out as something just shy of a growl. "Okay." She rolled her eyes, but she stayed strapped in, and Ginna relaxed.

Not a moment later, the entire dropship jerked violently, sending the three boys crashing into the ceiling and the walls. The lights went out. People started to scream. Ginna gripped the armrests and slammed her eyes shut, not prepared to meet her end with them open.

And then with a final crash so forceful it knocked the wind out of her, it all stopped.

"Listen," a boy said, his voice cutting through the startled silence. "No machine hum."

And that was all the confirmation anyone needed. Ginna followed the example of the rest and began to unstrap herself, wincing as she pulled the strap away from her left side. The material had cut into her exposed collarbone upon landing, leaving a thin, barely bleeding line. She got to her feet on unsteady legs and followed the rest of the group toward the ladder to the lower level.

As she waited for her turn to climb down, a familiar face appeared above her right shoulder.

"I see you survived the landing," she observed.

The boy with the beanie nodded, his eyes solemn. She could put two and two together—the other boys who unstrapped had not been so lucky.

"So, I'm Finn—Collins," he offered with a friendly smile. "Who are you?"

Ginna didn't return the grin, but she did answer his question. "Ginna Cook. Pleasure."

His face fell and she watched as his body leaned slightly away from hers. "Oh."

Something bitter rose in the back of her throat. Of course he already knew who she was—what she did. Murderers always gained a sick sort of infamy on the Ark, their names and any personal information people could get their hands on traded more eagerly than any black market goods.

Ginna didn't say anything, avoiding his gaze as she made her way to the ladder, climbing down after the girl in front of her.

When she made it down to the lower level, she found some sort of commotion going on near the door, but she was too short to really see what was going on.

"That's Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor!" yelled some idiot next to her. He was actually tall enough to see what the action was.

There was some more murmuring from the front of the ship that she couldn't make out, and then the dropship was flooded with light. The doors were open. They were back.

* * *

…

* * *

It was anarchy. Mayhem. Chaos. Ginna felt like she could sing, but she was too unsettled by her interaction with Finn to do much of anything. So, she found a seat on a fallen tree with a good view to keep an eye on the action. She wasn't stupid—it wouldn't take long for some sort of hierarchy to develop, and she'd be damned if she got stuck on the bottom. It was safest to stay out of the way and avoid making enemies. She would just observe for the time being.

The action seemed to be centered around two teens from Alpha Station—Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha. She'd seen them around, and it was hard not to recognize them given their high profile parents. It wasn't surprising that they were creating a scene, but it _was _surprising that they were even down there to begin with. What were the two most privileged kids on the Ark doing exiled on Earth with a bunch of teenage criminals? Luckily for Ginna, they didn't seem to be too popular. She wouldn't make it far with a pair of privileged paragons of goodness in charge—not with her reputation.

They got into some sort of argument with Octavia Blake and her brother, who was obviously way too old to be down there. The older Blake sibling gained the ear of the crowd the second he opened his mouth, declaring that they should "let the privileged do the hard work for a change" and go scout out Mt. Weather for the rest of them.

Interest piqued, Ginna slid from the tree and made her way closer to the unfolding discussion. Blake was going to be one to watch; he didn't seem to be actively trying to take charge, but the others listened to him. Ginna had no desire to lead anyone, but making it onto the good side of whoever did end up in charge needed to be her top priority. Being unpopular would shorten her life expectancy on the ground significantly.

"You're not listening," Wells said, raising his voice so the whole crowd could hear. "We all need to go!"

At his exclamation, a boy surged from the group behind him, shoving Wells forward. "Look at this, everybody," he sneered. "The Chancellor of Earth."

The delinquents laughed, but Ginna started. She recognized that voice.

"You think that's funny?" Wells challenged.

The other teen retaliated by kicking his ankle out from underneath him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"No, but that was." The cruel-faced teen smirked as he circled Wells.

The two sank into fighting positions, and the group of boys that backed the other boy egged them on. But nothing happened, as Finn leapt from the side of the dropship, landing between the two teens.

"Kid's got one leg," he said, his voce calm. "How about you wait until it's a fair fight?"

The situation might have escalated, but Octavia sauntered forward, drawing everyone's attention. "Hey Spacewalker? Rescue me next."

Her comment earned laughs all around, and with the situation diffused, the assembled teens began to disperse. Ginna hurried after the teen that had picked a fight with Wells.

"John Murphy?" she questioned, having recognized his voice. He turned around in surprise, his posse of followers flanking him with menacing expressions; Ginna thought they looked ridiculous. "And here I thought you were only an asshole to me."

Murphy's eyes widened in recognition as she spoke. "Well, hello neighbor!" He leered at her, scanning her body up and down. "You don't look nearly as scary as I thought you would."

Ginna felt her lip curl. It was hard to believe she'd spent her entire eighteen months of confinement with Murphy as her only conversation partner without losing her mind. It turned out trading insults and sarcastic commentary with her unpleasant cell neighbor was an excellent way to stay sane.

"You sure know how to flatter a girl."

Murphy chuckled. "Glad to see all the fresh air hasn't made you any nicer."

Ginna rolled her eyes. As usual, Murphy's insult lacked any lasting bite. "Right back at you, jackass."

Murphy rolled his shoulders, his displeasure at being embarrassed in front of his new cronies darkening his face, but an unexpected yell cut off whatever he was preparing to say.

"Ginna!"

Ginna whipped around at the familiar voice, finding someone whose face she knew as well as her own jogging towards her from across the clearing.

"Nathan," she sighed as she felt a genuine smile stretch over her face for the first time in months.

He shouldered his way through Murphy's gang and swept her up in a bone-crushing hug. He was several inches taller than the last time they'd seen each other, and his embrace lifter her clear off the ground. He finally let her go, and she felt her boots sink back onto the soft forest floor.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Nathan said with a smile, tugging on a strand of her hair affectionately.

"Who's he?" Murphy interjected. Ginna had forgotten he was still there.

"My best friend," she snapped at him before grabbing Nathan's hand and dragging him in the opposite direction.

They made their way over to the side of the dropship that wasn't still on fire, avoiding rowdy groups of teens as they crossed the clearing. Once they were out of earshot, Ginna shoved Nathan back against the nearest tree.

"You idiot!" she snapped, smacking his arm.

"Ow, Gin," Nathan whined.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, getting up in his face—it required her being up on her tiptoes, as she was fairly short and he was fairly tall.

He placed his hands on her shoulders in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting. "Same thing you are."

Ginna shrugged his hands off. "You know that's not what I meant. What did you do to get yourself arrested?"

Nathan focused on a point over her shoulder, his dark cheeks coloring slightly. Ginna sighed—she knew that look.

"It was something really stupid, wasn't it?"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, and his hand muffled his confession slightly. "There was this girl from Agro…"

"It's always a girl, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to do something nice so she'd notice me, and I may have stolen some extra rations."

God, he could be so stupid. She loved Nathan—he was her best friend, his mom had been a frequent visitor at the library where Ginna's mom worked, and his father had been a comforting presence after hers was floated—but he was terrible at weighing the consequences of his actions.

"Yeah, and I bet she really noticed you after you got yourself locked up in the Skybox! Nathan, there are nicer things you can do for a girl than stealing rations. Hell, I'm sure my mom would have been happy to help you…"

Nathan's face had gone pale, and his eyes flickered skyward. "Gin…" he sighed.

"What?" Something was squeezing her heart in her chest. She knew him too well not to know the expression on his face meant there was something she didn't know, and that it was something bad. "What is it?"

"Your mom." He finally met her eyes, dark brown meeting crisp green. "They floated her two days after your arrest."

"No."

"Ginna, I'm sorry—"

"No!" Ginna backed away, bracing her hands on her knees as she felt bile rise in her throat. "I didn't…become a—a _murderer _just so she could get floated!"

Nathan didn't say anything. He knew her well enough to know that there was nothing he could do to comfort her.

"Why?" she gritted out, finally.

Nathan sighed, leaning back against the tree and hanging his head. "After you got locked up, they investigated what happened in Mecha. They searched your apartment, and they found stolen pills—sleeping pills and sedatives. That's what you guys were doing in Mecha, right?"

Ginna nodded. She couldn't speak. It was her fault. _Everything _was her fault.

"Who were the pills for, Gin? That was some serious shit."

_Me, _Ginna almost said. _They were for me. _"Why wasn't I there?" she asked instead. "They were supposed to let me be there. I should have been escorted to her floating." Kids were escorted from the Skybox for their parent's floatings all the time; it was protocol.

Nathan rubbed a hand over his face, looking incredibly weary. "You were deemed to dangerous to let out. But my dad and I were there, Gin. We were there for her."

It should have been her. She should have been there.

"Thanks, Nathan."

"Gin, I—" he reached a hand for her, but she shrank away, turning around to stare fixedly at the dropship.

"I just need a minute alone, okay?" her voice remained cool and steady. It was all too much, and when things got to be too much, Ginna just shut down. She needed to not think about what she had just learned, but looking at Nathan would only remind her.

She didn't wait for his answer, but when she turned around, he was gone.

* * *

…

* * *

Ginna found sanctuary on the unoccupied top floor of the dropship. It wasn't unoccupied when she entered—having climbed the ladder to find two delinquents locked in a passionate release of teenage hormones—but that was a problem easily remedied. Suddenly, her plan to avoid making enemies didn't seem so important, so she calmly told the pair to leave, or she would kill them and use their flesh for her next meal if the others didn't return from Mt. Weather soon. They seemed to believe her because she had the room to herself less than a minute later.

From the moment she was arrested, Ginna had been prepared to never see her mother again, but this was somehow so much worse. She was supposed to have one day left to live, but instead she was on Earth, and her mother had been dead for over a year. _This was not how things were supposed to go. _

She thought she was going to cry, or scream, or have some sort of violent breakdown, but it never came. She only felt unbalanced, stuck on the repeating thought that she was unprepared for this. Things had not gone as expected, and it left her feeling vulnerable and used. She thought she'd be sacrificing everything, and suddenly she found herself free.

Her inability to have any further emotional response left Ginna bored and desperate for some sort of distraction. So she made her way back down to the main level of the dropship, passing Wells nursing his injured ankle on the second floor, and joined the rest of the 100 outside.

* * *

…

* * *

Night had fallen, and the light of the campfire cast a sinister glow over the faces of the teens surrounding Bellamy. The looked feral and desperatefor something he was only too willing to give them: freedom. They just had to do one little thing for him in return.

Wielding a long makeshift knife from the dropship scraps, Bellamy made his way to the center of the group. "Don't you think you've all been prisoners long enough?" he called and smirked in satisfaction at the resounding chorus of approval he received in response. "These wristbands only ensure that those who kept you down, floated your parents, and took away your freedom will follow us down here! This is our land now, this will be our home where we can be free of the oppression of the Ark." He twirled the knife and looked out over the eager faces of the crowd. "So who's first?"

There was a beat of silence before everyone started shouting at once, clamoring to get a piece of what Bellamy so convincingly offered.

"Me." A girl shoved her way through the throng of people, coming to stand so close to the fire that her rose-gold hair almost looked to be a part of the flames. "I want to go first."

She was small, all sharp edges, her body tightly wound and reminding Bellamy of coiled wire, full of potential energy and just waiting to spring to action. Some might have thought her brave, but he saw something in her green eyes that spoke of a very different motivation.

"What's you name, sweetheart?" he asked, loud enough for all to hear. After Bellamy was finished, they would all want their own moment of fame.

"Ginna Cook," she answered, and the challenge in her eyes assured him she knew exactly what he was doing.

A hushed murmur rippled through the assembled teens at her announcement. Fame or infamy as the cause, she had certainly stolen their attention.

"Well, well," Bellamy chuckled. "If it isn't the Murderess of Mecha. You've got quite the reputation for such a little thing."

Ginna squared her chin at him and held out her arm. Her eyes said it all: _Are you going to stop performing and take off this wristband, or not?_

He took her by the wrist, and they knelt down over a large rock beside the fire pit. He slipped the blade of the crude knife between the wristband and her skin.

"I was supposed to die tomorrow." Her voice was quiet; no one else could have heard her statement.

Bellamy flicked his eyes up to meet hers and saw the flames reflected in their depths. Her eyes were _hungry. _ Without breaking eye contact, her pushed down on the blade until the wristband snapped, the metal falling away.

"In that case, welcome to the rest of your life, Ginna Cook."

* * *

...

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**And that's that. Please drop me a review. They nourish my soul. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who followed/favorited**

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Chapter 2

_A Kind Lie_

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…

* * *

There was something about wide-open spaces that set Ginna on edge and left her with every hair on end, all her senses prickling, and her breathing shallow. It probably had something to do with spending a large portion of her childhood hiding in a storage closet of the Ark's library, reading books and hoping her mother hadn't noticed she'd snatched them from the shelves. Or maybe it was spending the last 18 months in a seven-by-ten jail cell. Or maybe it was growing up on the Ark in general, where the only wide-open space was _space—_and everyone knew that space was a most efficient executioner.

But the openness of Earth didn't seem to bother the rest of the hundred because once the excitement died down for the night, they just sort of collapsed in piles on the forest floor, uncaring and unafraid of what might await them in this new world they had been dropped into.

Ginna didn't even consider sleeping outside; sleep came hard enough as it was without trying to find it while laid out beneath the open sky. So she'd returned to the dropship, dragging a large piece that she'd cut from the parachute with her. There'd been a couple hooking up in the far corner of the first floor, but Ginna didn't have the energy to climb the ladder to the second floor or kick them out. And there was a small part of her that almost didn't mind their presence; they made it difficult to feel too lonely.

When Ginna woke in the early morning, her muscles tense and her heart pounding, it was still dark outside the dropship, and the couple had fallen asleep, their soft breathing mingling with the sound of a slight breeze rustling the trees out in the forest. Before heading outside, she folded up her piece of parachute and tucked it behind a row of seats, promising herself that she'd find a better place to hide it later.

The morning air was cool and damp, and Ginna shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket as she picked her way through the sleeping teenagers, looking for Nathan. She finally found him off towards the side of the clearing, sleeping alone beside a large rock. There was some sort of ground covering in that area that gave the forest floor a plush springyness that Ginna suspected was far more comfortable than the floor of the dropship had been. As quietly as she could, Ginna perched herself on the rock, bringing her knees up to her chest to conserve warmth while she waited for her friend to wake.

Nathan was a true early riser, always fresh and not one to waste a minute of the morning. Once upon a time, Ginna had been one of those people that could sleep until the afternoon, but she'd lost that ability, instead often awakening in the smothering hours of almost-dawn still exhausted but unable to find rest. Predictably, once the sky had lightened to the dusty purple of a week-old bruise, Nathan began to stir beside her, shuffling and groaning as his senses returned to him.

"Morning, sunshine," she whispered, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb anyone else.

"Hey," he said fondly as he looked up at her from his position on the ground. His voice was deep and gravelly with sleep, but the softness in his sleepy expression was boyish.

She couldn't help but remember when they had been children, and she would spend the night at his apartment. They would pool their meager supply of blankets and pillows to build a nest on the living room floor. Nathan would always wake up first, immediately proceeding to poke and prod Ginna until she joined him. Oh how times had changed.

Nathan picked himself up from the ground and nudged Ginna over slightly on the rock so he could sit beside her.

"Everyone called him Little Kip, but I didn't know his real name until after it all happened."

Ginna froze at his words. Nathan was talking about _him. _Of course, she knew his real name. It had been Tony Kipper, not that it mattered. He was dead now, anyway.

"My dad said they'd been trying to pin his father down for illegal trading for ages. Then Old Man Kip died, and Little Kip took over. Everyone knew, but they couldn't prove it. My dad suspected the Council was actually glad someone finally did him in."

For a planet that was supposed to be covered in oxygen, the air all of a sudden felt far too thin. "Why are you telling me this?" Ginna demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.

Nathan shrugged. "I guess because I know you want to know it. Maybe to remind you who he was and that everyone knew he deserved it."

Ginna laughed; it was a short, sharp little thing with no real humor in it. "Do you think I don't know he deserved it? Not to tarnish your image of me, or anything, but I don't regret it. I'd do it again."

"I don't blame you," he said after a moment of silence that lasted just a beat too long. "I'd have done the same thing."

It was a lie, and they both knew it, but it was a kind one.

* * *

…

* * *

"What about you, Nat, what'd they get you for?" Bellamy asked the young girl sitting beside him.

He was getting to know some of the younger members of the hundred, and if he managed to convince a few of them to ditch their wristbands along the way, well he wouldn't complain. So when he woke up to find a small group of them perched on a couple of fallen logs, he seized the opportunity. They were just kids, and they wanted someone to look up to—luckily for Bellamy, he made quite the dashing role model for a pack of budding rebels.

"Trespassing," Nat answered proudly and brushed a lock of silky black hair out of her face. She couldn't be more than fourteen.

"Ha, that's lame," laughed one of the boys.

Bellamy shot the boy a disapproving look. "Let the girl tell her story."

He didn't miss Nat's answering blush when he jumped to her defense. That would be one more wristband off by the end of the day.

Nat opened her mouth to continue, but a pointed throat clearing sounded from behind them. Bellamy noticed the awed and frightened expressions on the kids in front of him, telling him exactly who was interrupting without needing to turn around.

"Morning, Cook," he said, glancing over his shoulder. It wasn't enough to see her face, but he got a good view of her arms crossed confidently over her chest, the sleeves of her orange jacket pushed up to show a small expanse of freckled skin. "Something you need?"

"I wanna talk to you."

He turned around fully then, shifting to place one leg on either side of the log. The expression on her face made it clear she deliberately hadn't phrased it as a question. Her mouth was a tight expectant line, and her green eyes met his with the subtlest of challenges. When he'd first discovered that she—this little girl who stood only as tall as his shoulder and looked like she probably weighed a hundred pounds with her boots on—was the culprit in the famed murder in Mecha, he'd been shocked. But now that he really looked at her, he saw something steely just under her skin that lessened his initial surprise.

He held her gaze, waiting for the moment when she would subserviently duck her head and offer an _if that's ok _or a _sorry for interrupting. _ When it never came, he cut his losses, ire now peaked, and turned to the kids who remained watching the exchange with interest. "Sorry guys, time to scram. The lady says she wants to talk."

Cook watched as the kids scampered off before taking Nat's vacated seat on the log and mimicking his position, one leg tossed over either side.

"I want in," she said without preamble.

"In?" Bellamy echoed, not following.

"On your little gang," she elaborated. "I'm offering my services to help you keep control."

She wanted to join the rag-tag group of power-hungry delinquents he'd manipulated into doing his bidding. He wasn't sure what to say; frankly, she seemed too smart for that. Not to mention he couldn't possibly see what she had to offer. The only thing any of the older girls had offered since they'd landed had been their bodies, and though there was certainly something aesthetically pleasing about Ginna Cook—in a sharp, hostile, and borderline menacing sort of way—he wasn't sure how he felt about having such a dangerous criminal in his bed. Sure, it was hypocritical of him, given what he'd done to get on the dropship in the first place, but he was still having a hard time seeing himself as a killer.

"I'm not offering to sleep with you, you pig."

She seemed to have realized the turn his thoughts had taken.

Bellamy smirked. "You're assuming I'm interested."

He watched in satisfaction as a muscle jumped under her jaw.

"Fine," he conceded, taking pity on her. "What could you possibly have to offer that will help me keep control of this camp?"

She rolled her shoulders back and tucked her hair behind her ears before bracing her hands on her knees. "My reputation. You saw those kids—they're terrified of me, and they're not the only ones. Haven't you heard? I'm a dangerous criminal."

She was confident, and though he searched her desperately for a weakness, he couldn't spot one. Bellamy was intrigued, not that he would ever tell her that. "And?" he asked in a bored tone. "They're plenty scared of me already, not to mention Murphy's like a rabid dog—very helpful, that one. What do I need you for?"

"You want people to follow you? Then they have to _like _you, not be scared of you. You were on the right track with those kids this morning. It's better if they're afraid of your enforcers. As for Murphy…" She paused and shook her head. "He's dangerous and unstable."

"I thought you were dangerous."

"But I'm not unstable."

She was right. Her expression was placid; her hands with their long, almost spidery fingers and clean nails lay still where they rested on her knees. Most notably, however, was that she had a point. Bellamy had been correct in assuming she was smart, but there was one thing he couldn't seem to understand.

"So what's in it for you? You don't seem like the type to want power just so you can abuse it."

"Not like the others, you mean?" Cook chuckled; it was a pleasing, throaty sound. "I don't want power—I want security. You're clearly going to end up in charge of us, and it's in my best interest to be on your good side."

He couldn't say he didn't appreciate her honesty. "Alright. You're in."

He thought an expression of relief flashed across her face, but it was gone before he had a chance to process it. "Good. So what do you want me to do?"

"Get people to take their wristbands off."

Her brow furrowed and she tilted her head to the side. "Why don't you want to Ark to come down?"

Bellamy bristled instantly, standing up from the log so he stood over her, using his height to his advantage. "Ask me again, and I'll make sure you starve."

"We're starving anyway," she scoffed before holding up her hands in surrender. "But you can consider the subject dropped."

"Wise choice," he said tersely. "And I want you to get those wristbands off, no matter what it takes."

"Sir, yes sir," she mocked with a slight salute, though she didn't rise from her seat on the log.

Bellamy rolled his eyes and started off in the direction before something occurred to him. "Cook!" he called, turning back and taking a return step in her direction. "Just don't kill anybody."

She was on her feet in a flash, head tilted back to glare into his eyes. "Just because I took one life doesn't mean I'm constantly filled with the killer instinct," she spat. "You don't need to remind me not to murder people."

The guilt tightened around his neck like a noose—not that he was even sure he even needed to feel guilty. She was a murderer, after all. _But so are you, _whispered a voice in the back of his head.

"Noted," he snapped.

He expected her to say something else, but she just stalked off, leaving him staring after her and wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

...

* * *

**So a few of you followed/favorited last chapter, but if you guys want me to continue writing this, please leave me some feedback. So if you read it and didn't hate it, I'd appreciate a review. They're the best kind of tip ever. **


	3. Chapter 3

**And I'm back. Sorry for the wait. Real life gets in the way sometimes. **

* * *

Chapter 3

_More to the Story_

* * *

_..._

* * *

Bellamy turned a knife over in his hands as he examined the dead panther. He'd planned to turn the beast into dinner, but now he realized he wasn't really sure how to go about that. It couldn't be too hard, and if he failed—Bellamy spared a glance at the dozens of teenagers watching him with ravenous expressions—well he'd probably be eaten alive. Not having much to lose, Bellamy sank down to his knees before the panther and aimed his knife at a spot on its stomach. He hadn't even pierced the flesh before a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Stop! What are you _doing_?"

Bellamy looked up into to see Cook staring down at him, her eyes wide and her hand stretched out to stop him. "Making sure we don't starve," he snapped.

Cook crossed her arms. "Well you're doing it wrong."

Bellamy took a deep breath before standing. There was no way he would let her look down on him while also telling him what to do.

"How's that?" he challenged. "If you don't want us to eat you instead, I suggest you get out of the way."

He had to resist the urge to smirk in victory when he spotted a muscle twitch just under her jaw. She may keep a tight reign on her emotions, but he suspected she had a temper. It certainly went with her screwdriver-wielding-murdering-psycho reputation.

"Sure thing, your highness," she bit out, her tone frosty. "Just don't come crying to mewhen you ruin the meat because you dressed it wrong."

"Watch your mouth, Cook," Murphy drawled, interrupting.

"Fuck off, Murphy," Cook deadpanned, barely even looking in his direction.

Murphy bristled, his face twisting in anger. "You—"

"Easy," Bellamy intervened, placing a hand on Murphy's shoulder and giving the boy a quelling look before turning to the girl. "What are you talking about, Cook? Do you know how to prep this?"

"Yeah."

"Where the hell did you learn something like that?" Gutting—dressing—whatever it was called was not something they taught in Earth Skills.

"My mom ran the library, and my only friend lived on a different station. I had a lot of free time, so I read a lot of books." Cook shrugged, and her bright hair glittered in the firelight.

"You just keep getting more useful." And it was true. He had expected her to be more of a thorn in his side than anything, and despite her tendency toward insubordination, she was far from useless. "Care to show us how it's done?"

She gave him a simpering smile, but her eyes were cold as she snatched the knife out of his hands. "With pleasure."

"So how'd you do with the wristbands?" Bellamy asked from his seat on the ground as he watched Cook work. She'd taken off that ugly orange jacket, and her wiry arms were stained almost to the elbows with the panther's blood. Bellamy was supposed to be watching so he could learn how to prepare any future kills, but he was having a hard time following what she was doing.

"Decent," she replied. She tilted her head to get a better look at the guts she was pulling out of the panther's middle, but her long hair swung into the way. She swore under her breath and tossed her head a few times until it fell back behind her shoulders. "I got thirteen off, but it's not very effective to approach people individually. It's a big decision for people who still have family up there, one they're not willing to make without the right push."

"And what would you suggest?" He honestly wanted to know when she thought. When she wasn't being cold and critical, she actually had a lot of smart things to say.

Her watched her profile as she pursed her lips, thinking. "Peer pressure, I guess; us teenagers are supposed to be easily swayed by it, after all," she said finally. "Give them some compelling motivation so that they make the decision as a group."

"Makes sense." Bellamy nodded in appreciation, but she didn't catch the gesture, her focus on the task before her. "Say, Cook, just how hungry are you right now?"

"Honestly? I'm starving. If you hadn't brought this panther back I'd probably be gutting Murphy instead. What are you thinking?"

"That we get them to make a trade."

She turned to them then, a skinny, crooked smirk on her lips. "That's pretty ruthless."

Bellamy shrugged. "I don't see you trying to talk me out of it."

Cook gave a throaty chuckle. "Well we both know what a wasted effort that would be. Besides, I don't want anyone up there to die—except Jaha, I guess—but I also don't really want _them_ coming down here, either. So I'm choosing not to weigh in on the issue."

She'd clearly given the subject some thought. And she wanted Jaha dead. For a moment, Bellamy considered telling her he'd already fulfilled her wish, but he thought better of it.

"That's very apathetic of you," he teased.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Don't look at me like that. I know big words." Bellamy glared halfheartedly. "And what about Miller? You two are pretty close, and his dad's up there, right?"

She turned back to the panther's corpse and began pulling out the intestines with more force than was probably necessary. It was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"Just pay attention, Blake," she snapped.

* * *

...

* * *

Bellamy had decided that he hated teenagers with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. Or perhaps not quite that much, but he was beginning to wonder if they weren't possibly the worst group of people he could be stuck on Earth with.

Things had been looking up the night they saved Jasper and brought the panther back. His idea to make the Hundred trade their wristbands for food had been inspired and quite effective. Only about a third of the remaining teens still had their wristbands, and that number had diminished every day since. Surprisingly, Cook had actually known what to do with a dead animal to turn it into food, providing the answer to a dilemma before he even realized it could have presented a problem. Although the fact that only one person in the entire camp knew how to dress a kill only emphasized how woefully unprepared they all were to survive.

But now they were out of food. And everyone was bored. And as it turned out, bored, hungry, criminal teenagers were like unfriendly, insubordinate wild animals. Bellamy hated them. They needed to find food fast, or he was going to make killing people a regular habit. He needed to blow off some steam, release some aggression. Most of his Lost Boys—as Octavia had called his group of lackeys—were scattered about camp, causing trouble and intimidating people, but he spotted Cook and Murphy over in a little copse of trees on the edge of camp. Murphy was practicing knife throwing and failing spectacularly—just the sort of opportunity Bellamy was looking for.

"Wow, Neighbor, you suck at that," he heard Cook say in response to Murphy's latest subpar throw. The girl was perched on a tree stump, leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and watching Murphy with a sneering expression. She didn't acknowledge Bellamy as he joined them, crossing his arms over his chest and silently observing.

"Whatever," Murphy grumbled, retrieving his knife from the ground. "I'd like to see you do better."

Cook shrugged and pulled her own makeshift knife from her boot before sliding off the stump. She walked with a confident swagger, but the way her jaw worked as she chewed on the inside of her cheek betrayed her nervousness. She angled her body at a 45˚ angle to the tree and threw the knife.

It whistled through the air and stuck in the bark for a moment before dropping to the ground.

Murphy laughed.

"That was still better than you did," Cook pointed out.

"It's that damn kid," Murphy defended himself. "He's messing with my head."

"He's not gonna last much longer, so think of a new excuse," Bellamy chimed in, finally. A small voice in the back of his head told him he probably shouldn't work out his frustrations by degrading a teenager, but he ignored it. He rolled his shoulders confidently and hurled his ax at the tree, smirking as it stuck firmly in the bark. "And that's how it's done."

Murphy said nothing, but he heard Cook snort behind him. Before he had a chance to knock her down a peg as well, Atom and Connor joined them, looking sweaty and defeated. That wasn't a good sign.

"We searched a half mile all directions," Atom said to Bellamy. "No sign of Trina or Pascal."

Bellamy didn't like his tone. He didn't like his face. He didn't like his hands because for some reason the kid had seen fit to put them on Octavia.

"Visit your special tree while you were out there?" Murphy taunted Atom.

He heard a throat clearing beside him and looked down to see Cook, once again seated on the tree stump, looking up at him expectantly. _Put him in his place, _her gaze seemed to say. He couldn't decide if he found her amusing or if he wanted to strangle her.

"Atom took his punishment," Bellamy said finally to the group, though clearly directing his statement to Murphy. "Let it go."

Murphy's lip curled, but he held his tongue. Smart choice.

"Could be grounders," Atom offered, returning to the original topic.

"Or they're just working off their hormones," Cook said as she picked the dirt out from under her fingernails.

Murphy chuckled and said pointedly, "yeah, there's a lot of that going around recently."

Bellamy glared at them both. For two people who so clearly disliked each other, they made an excellent show of teamwork in annoying the living shit out of him.

"Look, Bellamy, people are scared," Atom said, ignoring the change in subject, again. "And that dying kid—he's not helping the morale around here."

With impeccable timing, an agonized moan echoed over camp, filtering through the opening of the dropship. As much as Bellamy was loath to admit it, the guy had a point.

"Morale will pick up when I find them more food," Bellamy said, indirectly acknowledging Atom's correct assessment.

"And what do we say when they ask about Trina and Pascal?" Connor spoke finally.

Bellamy liked Connor. He wasn't stupid, he didn't talk too much, and he followed orders well. He also hadn't even looked twice at Octavia, making him one of Bellamy's favorite people in camp.

"It's possible they're just lost." The possibility sounded weak, even to Bellamy's own ears. "We'll keep an eye out for them when we go hunting later."

That stirred some excitement among the group. Cook hopped eagerly to her feet.

"Let's go kill something," Murphy said darkly, visibly twitching with excitement. _Disgusting. _

"You're not going," Bellamy said, stopping Murphy. He stuck his arm out to block Cook's departure as well. "And neither are you." He turned back to Murphy, knowing he would be the easier one to convince. "I need you to stay here. The grounders are circling, and we can't leave this place unprotected."

Murphy looked momentarily frustrated, but his shoulders quickly sagged in defeat. "Fine. But somebody had better tell goggle-boy to keep it shut," he said over his shoulder as he stalked off.

Bellamy turned back to Cook. Her green eyes were narrowed, and she'd tilted her chin up defiantly.

"And why can't I go?" she pressed, her tone insolent.

_Jesus, _Bellamy thought. _Was this girl always expecting a fight?_

He was about to broach a potentially sensitive subject; he _should _do so with tact. Or he could just dive right in. "I heard that your dad got floated for fighting in the rings on Factory—and that he was pretty good, too."

Cook's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't seem too angry, like he had expected. "Yeah, he was one of the best. He got busted about six months before I got locked up," she confirmed warily. "What's your point?"

"Did he teach you how to fight?"

"Of course."

"That's what I thought." Bellamy smirked. "And that means I have a job for which you are uniquely qualified."

She didn't look convinced. "Because I can fight?"

"Also because you're a girl." He looked at her carefully, making sure to catch her gaze so she knew how serious he was. "I want you to look after Octavia."

"I'm not a babysitter," Cook scoffed.

He was expecting that reaction. She didn't seem like the type to appreciate such an appointment. Too bad he didn't really care.

"It's not babysitting. I want you to go with her wherever she goes, and after what happened with Atom, you're about the only person I can safely assign to do that," Bellamy explained. Why couldn't she just take orders like the rest of the guys?

Cook sucked on the inside of her cheek and looked off to the side with narrowed eyes. It only took her a moment to come to a decision. "Fine. What's in it for me?"

She was absolutely _impossible. _Part of Bellamy wondered if it would be a mistake sticking her with Octavia since neither of them seemed inclined to listen to him the way he wanted them to.

"I thought we already agreed you were going to do what I say," he said, crossing his arms and stepping closer so that he towered over her. Cook didn't seem bothered by his admittedly weak show of intimidation.

"That was before you told me to do something boring—no offence to Octavia," she said with a placating wave of her hand.

"Fine," Bellamy gritted out. This was not how he'd planned out the conversation. "You'll get to share a tent, just the two of you. No worrying about bunking with some rapist." He was going to offer her a place in Octavia's tent anyway, but she didn't need to know that. But when she didn't immediately agree, Bellamy laid out his final offer and pulled a knife—definitely the best of the drop ship knives, by far—and offered it to her. "I'll let you have the knife. It's a lot better than yours."

Cook pursed her lips for a moment before shrugging her thin shoulders. She took the knife and quickly slipped it into her boot. "You make a convincing argument. I'll keep an eye on her. But just to warn you—she's not going to like having another babysitter."

She didn't need to tell him that. He knew just how little Octavia was going to appreciate the new arrangement, but he was hoping that her new minder being a girl—and possibly a potential friend, though Bellamy wasn't sure he wanted his sister befriending someone like Cook—would soften the blow.

"I don't really care whether she likes it or not," was all he said in response before stalking off.

* * *

...

* * *

Ginna wasn't terribly pleased with her new job, but she wasn't overly displeased with it either. On the one hand, it would keep her confined to camp with a charge that was sure to resent her presence. But on the other hand, she would have a safe tent to sleep in, and that was an offer too priceless to question. Besides, Bellamy was right: she _was _uniquely qualified for the job. She could understand why he didn't want to put another boy in charge of Octavia, given what had happened with Atom, and as far as she knew, there weren't many girls in camp capable of being an effective bodyguard. Ginna may be small and slight, but her father had taught her more than a few things. And after he was floated, Miller's dad made sure she knew how to look after herself, too. Her father had been a practical man, never one for emotional displays of love and affection, but it was the little things that showed how much he'd cared. Teaching her to fight so she could protect herself, arranging an apprenticeship with a friend of his on Agro so she could learn a trade (not that she'd shown much skill in the area)—those were the things that Ginna would always hold onto. She couldn't help but think that he would be glad the skill he'd taught her would be serving her well on Earth.

Or it would be serving her well if she restrained the urge to slam Octavia's head into the wall of the dropship. She admired the younger girl's clear desire for independence, but she was so petulant. So _whiny _and completely ruled by her emotions. Blake's sister was one passionate girl, much to Ginna's displeasure. Those passions were going to get Octavia—and Ginna by extension—into trouble, she thought as she watched the other girl throwing herself at Atom.

"Am I being too subtle?" she asked with obvious displeasure as the boy ignored her advances. "Atom?" Octavia pressed.

Ginna pushed out of the doorway of the dropship where she had been waiting for a moment to interrupt. "I don't think he's interested."

Octavia shot her a narrow glare and snapped, "mind your own business."

"I am." Ginna smirked. "Your brother made me your new babysitter."

Octavia bristled, rising to her full height to stare Ginna down. The move was something the Blake siblings seemed to have in common. Too bad Ginna didn't spook that easily. "I don't need a babysitter," Octavia sneered. "I don't even know who you are."

"I'm Ginna—and of course you don't. However, I do what Bellamy tells me to do, so we're at a bit of an impasse," Ginna said calmly, while still making it clear that Octavia was not in control of the situation. She had been expecting this sort of reaction, anyway.

Octavia kept the hard expression on her face for a moment longer before deflating. "I'm not going to have any fun with you around," she pouted.

Ginna chuckled. "I'll try not to get in your way too much." She offered the other girl what she hoped was a friendly smile before warning, "just—stay away from Atom. For his sake and mine, if you get what I'm saying."

The second the words left her mouth, she knew they had been the wrong ones. Octavia's eyes widened and then her expression darkened. "Oh I get what you're saying," she hissed under her breath before storming out of the dropship.

Ginna cast her eyes skyward, pleading for strength before jogging after the other girl just in time to see her heading into her brother's tent and Murphy exiting a moment later. Not wanting to get in the way of the impending showdown, she waited outside, counting the ants the crawled over her boots and studiously ignoring the raised voices from inside.

Octavia ducked out of the tent a moment later, and without casting so much as a glance in Ginna's direction, headed back to the dropship at a sprint. Ginna was just about to follow her when the older Blake sibling emerged from the tent as well, looking enraged enough that Ginna wished she were somewhere, _anywhere _else.

"What did you say to her?" Bellamy demanded, rounding on her with a furious expression.

"Nothing." Ginna blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent.

"Sure." Unsurprisingly, he sounded unconvinced.

But Ginna didn't feel like dealing with more Blake family shit than was strictly a part of her job description, so she merely shrugged her shoulders and left to return to the dropship. He followed, stalking in her footsteps like an angry shadow, but mercifully, he didn't say anything.

After asking one of the kids hanging around the first floor of the dropship, Ginna learned that Octavia had gone to one of the upper levels. She looked to Bellamy and gestured to the ladder. _Go ahead, _she dared him with the gesture.

But he just shook his head. "Ladies first."

Ginna shrugged off the taunt and began to climb, all the while resisting the urge to "slip" on the ladder and kick him in his smug face.

"She's trying to save his life," Finn was saying as they finally made it to the top level.

"She can't," Bellamy interjected as he emerged from the hatch behind her.

As Ginna looked upon the scene before her, she couldn't help but agree. The goggle kid looked even worse than he had when they'd brought him back to camp. His skin was sallow and sweaty, and the whole room smelled like infection.

"Back off," Jaha's son said coldly, giving Bellamy a nasty look. For once, Ginna found herself on Blake's side; it wasn't his fault they were all afraid to face the truth.

"We didn't drag him through miles of woods just to let him die," Clarke said earnestly. Ginna wasn't sure what to think of the blonde girl. She seemed smart and capable, but definitely not the type of person Ginna would be befriending any time soon.

"Kid's a goner," Bellamy said with absolutely no sympathy. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Ginna, probably trying to make it seem like she was supporting his call—the jerk. "If you can't see that, you're deluded. He's making people crazy."

"Sorry if Jasper's an inconvenience to you, but this isn't the Ark. Down here, every life matters."

Clarke had a point. She had _the _point. There were already less than a hundred of them, and they couldn't afford to lose anymore—especially if the rest of the Ark never came down like Bellamy was hoping. She tilted her head away from him to shoot him a significant look out the side of her eye.

_Traitor, _said his answering glare. "Look at him. He's a lost cause."

Clarke only shook her head with disgust. "Octavia, I spent my whole life watching my mother heal people. If I say there's hope, there's hope."

Ginna almost rolled her eyes. It wasn't about hope. It was about how capable goggle-boy was of pulling through and how capable Clarke was of helping him. She would never understand why people insisted on placing their fate in the hands of such foolish things as _hope. _

"This isn't about hope—it's about guts. You don't have the guts to make the hard choices. I do. He's been like this for three days; if he's not better by tomorrow, I'll kill him myself," Bellamy promised. "Octavia, let's go."

Predictably, Octavia shook her head and fixed her brother with a challenging stare. "I'm staying here. Don't worry, your guard dog will keep a close eye on me, right Ginna?"

Was that was it was like to have a sibling? How _miserable. _Ginna found herself very glad that she was an only child. "She's right," she said with a shrug, trying to keep her tone as impartial as possible. "It's what you wanted me to do, after all."

Blake's shoulders tensed, but the defeat was written all over his face as he made to climb back down the ladder. "Whatever. Don't let her out of your sight, Cook," he ordered.

Ginna saluted the top of his head as he disappeared down the hatch, earning chuckles from a few of the remaining teens.

"Thanks," Octavia said once her brother was out of earshot.

Ginna shrugged off her gratitude with a wave of her hand, but she was hopeful that the gesture would go a short way to making sure Octavia didn't purposefully make her life a living hell.

"Power-hungry, self-serving jackass. He doesn't care about anyone but himself," grumbled a boy that Ginna didn't recognize. "No offense," he added to Octavia.

"Yeah, Bellamy is all that, but he also happens to be right," said Finn. Ginna was pretty sure "right" was a bit of a stretch, but he wasn't without a valid point.

"I refuse to believe that," Clarke insisted. "There's nothing else we can do for now, and I need some air."

Finn and Wells were already leaving, so Octavia waved Clarke on. "Go ahead. Ginna and I will stay," she assured the other girl.

Clarke gave Ginna a distrustful glance before thanking Octavia and heading down the hatch herself. Ginna warily eyed the goggle-kid in the silence that lingered after Clarke's departure. Why couldn't Octavia be friends with someone healthy? Ginna really didn't like sick people.

"So why did you decide to become my brother's bitch?" Octavia asked, breaking the silence. She was seated casually on the ground and looking up at Ginna where she remained standing beside the hatch. "You don't seem like the other assholes he's got hanging around, and you're obviously not trying to sleep with him."

"Ha, definitely not," Ginna laughed and shook her head. She took a seat on the floor and leaned back against the wall as she considered her next words. "I just don't want to be on the bottom rungs of whatever power structure's gonna develop down here."

"Strategic."

Ginna nodded. "Thank you."

"You're not so bad," Octavia said with an amused shake of her head.

Ginna rolled her eyes. "You Blakes really excel at flattery—it must be genetic."

The kid who she didn't know snorted, indicating that he had been paying attention to their conversation.

"Hey, Jasper's friend. What's your name?" Ginna asked him.

"I'm Monty."

"Ginna," she introduced herself.

Monty licked his lips nervously before answering, "I know."

She was getting so _tired _of this crap. "Everybody does, it seems."

"Why?" Octavia asked, her confusion clear on her expressive face.

"Because I killed someone on Mecha station." There, let her make of that what she wanted.

The other girl gasped. "Why?"

"Because he was raping my mom." She didn't mind talking about it, but no one ever asked and the story never got out, so it was no surprise that Monty looked shocked. "There's always more to the story," Ginna added pointedly.

Octavia looked angry, but something about the brunette's expression told Ginna that the emotion was not directed at her.

"I can see that," Monty said solemnly. "You're something of an urban legend, you know, what with Young Kip being one of the main black market traders."

Urban legend was a nice way of putting it, and they both knew it.

"Yeah, well, he set a price that was just a little too high to pay," Ginna said darkly before deciding they were in need of a change of subject. "So what'd they get the two of you for?"

Octavia gave her an unamused look that plainly asked: _Isn't it obvious? _

Monty rubbed the back of his neck and blushed slightly. "My family was in charge of growing the plants for pharmaceuticals," he explained. "Jasper and I were…experimenting with some of the harvest."

Ginna laughed at that, the boy's embarrassment only making it funnier. "Somehow I'm not surprised," she stage-whispered to Octavia, earning a giggle from the other girl.

* * *

...

* * *

**Please drop a review if you loved or even hated it. Your feedback feeds both my development as a writer and my updates :) Chapter 4 should be coming sometime this week. **


	4. Chapter 4

Look at this speedy update! Also, many thanks to new follows/favorites/reviewers - you're all wonderful.

* * *

Chapter 4

_Every Night_

* * *

_..._

* * *

Ginna couldn't sleep. Her eyes were sticky with exhaustion, but there was no relief to be found. Most of the Hundred were awake as well, all of them crammed into the dropship to escape the acid fog and Jasper's moaning echoing off the bare metal walls. It wasn't an environment conducive to resting. But she couldn't care less about the crying of some dying kid she didn't know, not when the air had turned to acid and Nathan had gone out hunting. He was surely dead, probably along with the rest of the hunting party, and she should be grieving, not worrying. But realism did not extend to her best friend—she _refused _to believe that he was anything less than just fine.

Yet, still she worried, so instead of finding a hard patch of floor to curl up on, she perched on one of the seats that hadn't yet been torn out, with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms tucked in close. Spreading out would only make her nerves worse.

Jasper moaned, loudly.

"That's it, I'm ending this," Murphy growled, rising to his feet.

Ginna glared at him, not uncurling herself from the chair. "Bellamy gave him 'till tomorrow, Murphy. Back off."

She was beginning to wonder if Bellamy would let her beat the shit out of him if she asked nicely. That boy was really starting to get on her nerves.

Murphy sneered at her. "Yeah, well Bellamy isn't here, is he? The kid's dying—I'm just getting it over with."

Ginna flicked her eyes to there ladder where Monty stood, watching their exchange with nervous, furtive eyes. She jerked her head upward and mouthed, _"go!"_

Monty understood and launched himself up the ladder two rungs at a time, Murphy hot on his tail. "Murphy's gonna kill Jasper!" he yelled up to Octavia as he disappeared onto the next level.

"Let me in!" Murphy screamed as Monty shut the hatch in his face.

He shoved his shoulder against the hatch. It moved. _Oh no. _Ginna leapt from her seat, vaulting over a sleeping teen and throwing herself at Murphy. She wrapped her hands around his ankle and pulled hard, putting all her weight behind it. But Murphy was stronger, and instead of letting go of the ladder, he leveled a sharp kick at her face.

Pain exploded across her right cheekbone, and white spots danced across her vision. _Asshole. _That was enough of playing nice. She reached down into her boot and pulled out Bellamy's knife, slashing it across the back of Murphy's calf as she stood.

"Fuck!" Murphy swore, dropping off the ladder.

Ginna grabbed his wrist before he could recover, twisting his arm so it was pinned behind his back and holding the knife to his neck with her other hand. Just like her father taught her.

"If you don't stop, I will kill you. Do you understand?" she hissed in his ear, bending him over backwards slightly to compensate for her shorter height.

Murphy nodded, but she wanted to hear him say it

"I said, do you understand?" she repeated.

"Yes!" he cried, his voice breathless. "Yes just let me go—please."

Ginna smirked. She'd been waiting to do this since she first saw his face. "Good choice. Now why don't you try to get some sleep?"

She released him with a shove to the back, sending him staggering away from the ladder. She was pleased to note that not a single person had stepped in to help Murphy.

"Psycho bitch," he grumbled as he lay down. He curled up on his side, back petulantly pointed in her direction.

Ginna rolled her eyes at his childishness and sat down at the base of the ladder, ensuring that if anyone else tried to climb it, they'd have to get through her first. "You okay up there, Octavia?" she called.

"We're fine!" came the muffled response.

Ginna smiled and flipped the knife, catching it firmly in her palm. It was well made, for a drop ship knife—long blade, sharp edge, good handle. She'd have to thank Bellamy when she saw him again. For a moment there, she forgot to worry about Nathan.

* * *

…

* * *

The return of the hunting party had been bittersweet. Ginna had been overjoyed, surprised even, to see Nathan walk into camp alive, not a scratch on him. They'd even managed to make a few kills, ensuring the continued survival of the delinquents. But then Bellamy had carried in Atom's body, and worries about the next meal suddenly felt so trivial. Two boys had died before they'd even landed on Earth, but this death was different. Atom was their first loss on the ground, and it made the precariousness of their situation an unavoidable reality. Not only were there hostile Grounders to worry about, but the planet itself was a hazard to them in ways nobody prepared them for. They weren't prepared for anything.

Ginna found a seat on the ramp of the drop ship and watched as the delinquents gathered around the fire, waiting patiently as their next meal cooked. Ginna had taught a few of the teens how to dress, skin, and brain tan the animals and was now glad that that responsibility was no longer exclusively her own. Even in the darkness, she could see the blood still under her nails. _Gross. _She'd like to go to the nearest creek and wash off properly, but she had to wait for Octavia to finish visiting with Jasper in the drop ship first.

"Damn, Gin. Did you get in a bar fight or something?"

She looked up from her nails. Nathan was standing in front of her, frowning.

"What?" she asked.

"The side of your face." He climbed the ramp to sit beside her and waved a few fingers at her right cheek, indicating what she was sure had blossomed into an ugly bruise.

Ginna prodded the spot lightly and winced at the persistent ache. "Oh. Murphy was trying to kill Jasper, so I decided to get in the way." Nathan's brows knitted above his dark eyes. "Don't worry, I got the better of him," she smirked.

He snorted, but gave her a proud smile. "I'm not surprised. Just be careful; he's kind of a loose canon."

Ginna shrugged the warning off, but she couldn't help the shiver of unease that ran down her spine. Back on the Ark, Murphy had just been the faceless voice in the cell next door: sneering and sarcastic, but always offering an escape from the boredom of solitude. Yet now that they were on the ground…there was something in his eyes—a desperate, violent rage at the injustices that had been leaped upon him—that made her want to look away. She could see Murphy further in camp, knocking shoulders and laughing with one of Bellamy's lackeys as they constructed a tent. Maybe she was just imagining things.

"I hear you're something of a bodyguard now," Nathan said, breaking the moment of silence.

Ginna sighed dramatically. She wasn't sure if the appointment Bellamy had given to her was an honor or an insult. "Glorified babysitter, really. But it's cool. I get a good tent and don't have to share with any of you stinky boys."

From the corner of her eye she watched as he discretely sniffed himself and grimaced. "Now you're making me jealous," he moaned. "Think Bellamy would let me babysit his little sis if I promised not to hit on her?"

"Hey, get your own job."

"I did, actually." He pointed to where Dax and Connor were smearing the animal's hide with an oily brain and water mixture, courtesy of Ginna's instruction. "Monroe and I took down that boar together when we went hunting yesterday."

Ginna blinked in surprise. She hadn't realized he'd been the one to make the kill. It had been fairly neat, too, if the single spear hole in the neck she'd seen while fleshing the hide had been any indication. "Damn. I'm impressed. But of course you'd be a natural." Nathan had always been extraordinarily coordinated—something his father took great pride in. "I was worried about you, you know. With that acid fog and all."

He shuddered. "I'm not gonna lie, that stuff is pretty scary."

"Hey guys, mind if I join you?" Ginna and Nathan looked over their shoulders to find Octavia standing in the entrance to the dropship.

"Not at all," Ginna said, gesturing for the other girl to take a seat on the ramp. "Octavia, this is Nathan, but everyone down here calls him Miller."

Octavia gave him a sweet smile. "It's nice to meet you, Miller."

"You too." Nathan was blatantly checking her out. _Typical. _

"Just please don't hit on him because I don't think he could help himself," Ginna warned wit a pointed look at Nathan. The last thing she needed was her best friend strung up in a tree because he couldn't keep his hands off Bellamy's little sister.

Octavia roared with laughter, her shoulders seeming to relax for the first time since Atom had been brought back to camp. Nathan shrugged in a self-deprecating gesture.

"So how do you guys know each other?" Octavia asked.

Nathan leaned around Ginna slightly to answer. "We grew up together. Our moms were friends."

Friends was a bit of an understatement for what their moms had been. Ginna's family had lived on GoSci where the library was. It was a better station to live on than Mecha where her father worked. Nathan's family lived on Alpha, but his mom came by at least several times a week to share lunch with Ginna's mom, chat about a book, or just talk. The two women had been close since their teenage years, and when Nathan's mom passed away from cancer, it was devastating to both families.

Octavia looked between them with a wistful expression on her beautiful face. "I never had any friends…"

"So how's the goggle-kid?" Nathan asked, subtly reminding her that she had made friends on the ground. Ginna smiled at his thoughtfulness; it was one of the things she loved most about him.

"His name is Jasper, you know," Octavia snapped, but her face had brightened slightly. "And he's good. He woke up for a few minutes. Clarke thinks he's gonna be fine."

"That's good. Clarke seems to know what she's talking about," Ginna said. Truthfully, she didn't really understand the unerring faith people were beginning to put in Clarke. The blonde was superior and annoying, but Ginna kept those thoughts to herself. She wasn't in the ground to make enemies.

Octavia looked forward, her eyes narrowing at the sight of her brother making his way towards them. "I'll be inside," she said to Ginna before pushing to her feet.

"O, wait!" Bellamy called, jogging the rest of the way over. "I want to ask you something—and you, too, Cook," he glanced in Ginna's direction.

"What is it, Bellamy?" Octavia sighed and crossed her arms pointedly.

The older Blake sibling looked at his feet for a moment, looking so dejected that Ginna almost felt bad for him. But then his expression hardened, and he gestured to a small blonde girl standing beside him. "This is Charlotte. She's going to—I mean, do you mind if she bunks with the two of you for a few nights until we get some more tents up?" It was obvious he'd made an attempt to phrase his question as a request and not an order—a transparent attempt, but an attempt nevertheless.

"Whatever. Sure, kid, it's fine," Octavia said dismissively before tossing her hair over her shoulder and stalking back into the drop ship.

"Cook?" Bellamy asked, looking down at her with an expression on his face that indicated he would take nothing less than a '_Yes, sir'_ for an answer.

"Yeah, of course," Ginna answered casually. Then she saw the look of surprise on Bellamy's face. "What? Don't look at me like that. I know this may come as a surprise, but I actually like kids and am capable of friendliness."

He gave her a look that told her just what he thought about that: _I'll believe it when I see it. _

"Thank you," Charlotte said. She looked so small and nervous, and something in Ginna's heart went out to the girl. She was too young to be abandoned on tis unforgiving planet. They were all too young.

"Sure thing. It'll be fun, just—you don't snore, right?" Ginna said with a teasing smile.

Charlotte laughed, her small face lighting up just a little. "No, I don't snore."

"Okay good, otherwise we'd have a problem."

Bellamy was looking between the two girls as if he'd just seen Jaha himself tap dancing in a tutu. But then he shook his head and the expression cleared, his features settling back into a look of authority. "Good. Charlotte, Miller here can help you make a bed in the tent. Miller?"

Nathan pushed himself to his feet, standing at attention like a damn soldier. "No problem, man," he said with a deferential nod before walking off.

Ginna watched her friend go with pursed lips. He seemed awfully willing to answer to Bellamy, and she wondered what he thought about their leader's agenda to make sure the Ark never joined them on the ground.

"Cook—what the hell happened to your face?" Bellamy demanded.

Ginna got to her feet, tired of being looked down on—not the standing made much of a difference, but it helped. "Bar fight."

She watched as Bellamy clenched his jaw so tightly that a muscle in his neck clenched. He turned on his heel and marched off. _Asshole. _

Ginna turned to Charlotte who was looking after Bellamy with a slightly lost expression on her face. She placed a hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "You can hang with me while Miller finds you something to sleep on, okay?"

"Thanks," Charlotte smiled slightly, still looking nervous, but still more relaxed than she had been before.

"Don't mention it. And don't worry about Octavia. She's nice, she's just mad at her brother."

* * *

…

* * *

Ginna stared up at the roof of the tent. Tonight was not a night for sleep, she could just tell. She'd learned the hard way that sometimes it was just better to stay awake. The roof of the tent was a far nicer view than what she would see on the backs of her eyelids.

Beside her, Charlotte began to whimper and thrash on her sleeping pallet. Ginna reached an arm out and shook the other girl lightly. Charlotte awoke with a gasp and jerked away from Ginna's hand.

"Hey, you're okay. You're safe," Ginna whispered, keeping her voice soft and calming.

Charlotte's eyes darted around the tent frantically for a moment before her breathing calmed and her awareness returned. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized miserably, no doubt assuming that she had woken her tent-mate.

"It's okay. I know what it's like to have bad dreams. Just take some deep breaths."

Ginna settled back into her cocoon of parachute silk, turning on her side so she could watch the other girl. Charlotte mirrored her position, and her eyes glinted wetly even in the darkness.

"Do you get nightmares, too?" she asked, her voice small.

Ginna sighed and steeled herself before answering. "Every night," she admitted quietly. Every night she would wake, her whole body drenched in sweat and so tense her muscles cramped. She could never remember the dreams precisely, but their lingering impression was enough to indicate their content.

"How do you make them stop?" Charlotte asked, her voice rising slightly in desperation. Ginna glanced nervously across the tent to the dark shape of Octavia's sleeping form, but the other girl didn't stir. "Bellamy told me to slay my demons, but I don't know how. How do I do it?"

Bellamy had tried to help her with her nightmares? That was probably why he arranged to have her sleep with Ginna and Octavia. "I don't know kid; they only stop when I wake up. But if you figure it out, let me know."

Charlotte sniffed. "And if you figure it out?"

Ginna reached out and took the girl's small hand in her own, giving it a firm squeeze. "Then you'll be the first person I tell."

And somehow, despite her worries of another night plagued by fearsome dreams, Ginna found herself slipping into sleep.

* * *

...

* * *

**Ginna - 1/Murphy - 0. Oh Charlotte is such a conflicting character. Some hints about Ginna's nightmares...more on that in chapters to come. **

**next chapter: Ginna makes some new friends, head wounds, "shocking" revelations, a higher word count &amp; more**

**Feel free to drop a review if you liked it ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Special thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! **

* * *

Chapter 5

_Slay Your Demons_

* * *

...

* * *

Somehow, by the grace of some long forgotten god, life on the ground began to stabilize. The delinquents were getting better at hunting and locating edible plants, enough animal pelts had been tanned to start making blankets, Jasper was up and walking around, and the camp was slowly becoming a place where they could feel safe and secure.

As long as they stayed inside the walls.

Wells' death had cast a shadow over the Hundred, and an undercurrent of panic and anxiety mercilessly stalked their happiness.

But Ginna tried not to think about that. The Chancellor's son had been no friend of hers, and given that she was never to leave Octavia's side, she had no need to step outside the walls. She tried to stay focused on more immediate concerns like keeping the Blake siblings separated and Charlotte's continuing nightmares. The young girl would wake every night whimpering or gasping for breath, sometimes on multiple occasions. Octavia seemed to be a heavy sleeper and remained unbothered by the nightly occurrences, but Ginna didn't mind comforting the girl.

Surprisingly, Charlotte had become a welcome presence in Ginna's life. She tagged along with Ginna and Octavia as they went about their chores building the wall or preparing food. The little girl had befriended three of the other youngest members of the Hundred—Ty, 13, Izzie, 12, and Cobb, 12—and the four kids could often be found hanging out on a couple of makeshift stools outside the tent she shared with Ginna and Octavia. Their cheerful, giggling voices had become a constant background chatter.

So Ginna found herself in remarkably good spirits as she followed Octavia to deposit an armful of rations in the dropship when she felt a firm hand grab her elbow and drag her to the side.

"What?" Ginna sighed at Bellamy, her good mood rapidly fading.

He gave her a thoughtful once-over. "Has anyone ever told you that your jacket is ugly?" he asked and cocked his head to the side.

Ginna rolled her eyes. "Is it? I always thought tangerine was really my color," she said with false cheerfulness. She kept trying to like Bellamy, she really did, but then he would go and say something so _annoying. _

"It certainly makes you easy to spot in a crowd."

Something just like that.

"Wouldn't want to lose sight of one of your lackeys, after all," she said, her voice coming out even snottier than she'd intended.

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "That's not what I—never mind. How's my sister?"

That's not what he meant? Well, too bad. He didn't get to manhandle her and drag her around and expect her to be nice.

"I didn't realize my job description included spying." That was a lie. Of course it included spying, but that didn't mean she couldn't make him feel bad about it.

"It doesn't," Bellamy gritted out through clenched teeth. _Liar._ "Just—she hasn't spoken to me since Atom…"

"Died?" It was a little sad that he couldn't even say it. Did that mean he felt bad for stringing Atom up in a tree only to have the guy die less than twenty-four hours later? It wasn't like his death was Bellamy's fault, but Ginna supposed she would probably feel pretty bad about it, too. Probably.

"Yeah." His handsome face had fallen, the regret clear in his dark eyes.

So, Ginna took pity on him and answered his question. "She's fine. She complains _constantly _about being babysat, but we get along alright." That was true; she and Octavia were becoming fast friends. The other girl's vivaciousness could be overwhelming, but she had a strong defiant streak that Ginna found extremely enjoyable—a quality that would do little to mend her relationship with her brother, however. "Honestly, I'd be worried that she's going to resent you for not trusting her."

"Watch it, Cook. If I wanted your advice, I'd ask for it," Bellamy snapped, his voice falling into that authoritative timbre he used to order the others around.

Well, if that's how he wanted to be…

"You know what? _Fine. _But when your sister does something reckless and I can't stop her, the blame's gonna be on you," Ginna snarled, glaring up at him.

"Octavia isn't going to do anything reckless because it's your job to make sure that doesn't happen." Bellamy leaned down and got in her face, all pretenses of politeness abandoned.

"Of course, your highness. Deepest apologies for expressing my concern." Ginna gave him a mocking bow of her head before heading towards the dropship. _What a jerk._

She found Octavia waiting for her inside, arms free of the rations she had been carrying. Her pretty face bore a calm expression, by her eyes were just narrowed enough to betray her real emotions. Emotions that Ginna _really _didn't feel like dealing with.

"So what did my brother want?" Octavia asked, her voice painfully chipper. The girl was a terrible liar.

Ginna ignored the question and deposited her own rations in a box in the corner before turning to Octavia. "He wanted to know how you were doing."

Octavia scoffed. "He doesn't care how I'm doing. He just can't stand the thought of anyone being mad at him when he's God's gift to this stupid planet."

Ginna had to keep herself from physically retreating in the face of the younger girl's vitriol. Sure, Bellamy had been a jerk to Atom, but she'd seen his face just a moment ago. He was torturing himself over the kid's death. "Whatever," she just shrugged. It wasn't any of her business anyway. "I told him you were fine and hated having a babysitter. That okay?"

Octavia smirked and motioned for them to head back outside. "Yeah, that's okay."

The sun was blinding as they stepped back outside the dropship, and Ginna slipped her jacket from her shoulders and tied it around her waist. She looked upon the scene before her with a bemused smile. The Hundred were a bunch of teenage criminals—snotty, belligerent kids who never followed the rules—and here they were working together, organized and efficient, building a wall, constructing tents, preparing rations, and keeping a sharp watch on the forest beyond their camp. It was something she'd never expected to see, a miracle of sorts. And as much as she hated to admit it, they only had Bellamy to thank. If they were going to survive on Earth, he would be the one to make that happen.

But not everyone was hard at work. There was a pair of girls—Monroe and a tall brunette she'd seen coming out of Bellamy's tent—sitting by an unlit fire pit. The brunette was braiding Monroe's hair back and laughing at something.

"Hey," Ginna tapped Octavia's arm and pointed. "Who's she?"

Octavia's lip curled slightly. "Roma. She's one of Bellamy's bed warmers."

"That's rude."

Octavia raised her brows. "Are _you _actually reprimanding me for being rude?"

Ginna shrugged a shoulder, not feeling like getting into it with the other girl. "I'm gonna ask her to braid my hair. I'll catch up with you in a few. Don't do anything dangerous."

"Whatever, _Mom," _Octavia sighed, but nodded in acquiescence.

Ginna made her way over to Roma and Monroe, steeling herself for an awkward encounter. She wouldn't have bothered at all, but her simple braid never stayed in for long, and she didn't know how to do anything more complicated. She didn't know how Octavia let her hair hang loose all the time, dirty and tangled as it was.

Both girls looked at her curiously as she came to a stop before them. This was stupid; she'd killed a man with a screwdriver—she wasn't going to let herself be intimidated by a couple of teenage girls. She gave a nod of greeting to Monroe before saying, "Hi, you're Roma, right?"

"Yeah?" Roma said. The subtext was clear: _And? What do you want?_

"Will you do my hair next?"

Roma's hazel eyes narrowed slightly before she shrugged. "Sure no problem. Your hair's a mess—it could use it."

Monroe sighed audibly and gave Ginna an apologetic look. But Ginna just smirked in response—she liked this girl.

"So," Roma said conversationally as she tied off the end of Monroe's braid. "You're the girl Bellamy deemed scary enough to look after his precious sister."

Ginna chuckled and shook her head a little. "I'm just gonna interpret 'scary' as 'worthy' and take that as a compliment."

Monroe snickered, but Roma threw her head back and laughed deeply. "I _like _you!" She smiled at Ginna and gestured to take the seat in front of her so she could start braiding. "Let's be friends."

Ginna felt something warm flicker in the pit of her stomach. The last time someone had ever expressed an actual desire to be her friend had been Nathan, and she'd been three years old. She felt a real smile itching at the corners of her lips. "Okay."

* * *

…

* * *

Ginna took it all back. She _hated _that stupid wall, and she hated _stupid _Bellamy for making them build it. Who thought it would be a good idea to arm a bunch of kids with sharp objects? That was insane! _Insane, _she snarled to herself as she blinked blood out of her eyes and leaned on Octavia's arm for support as they entered the dropship.

"Clarke!" Octavia called as she pulled aside the parachute. Her shrill voice made the pounding in Ginna's head increase.

_Too loud, _Ginna wanted to tell her. _Just be quiet for once, would you? _

"Yeah?" Clarke said as she climbed down the ladder from the second level. Then her blue eyes widened in shock as they landed on Ginna. "Oh my God, what happened to her?"

Ginna waved her hand at what was an undoubtedly very nasty cut on her forehead, if the amount of blood dripping down her face was anything to judge by. "Falling projectiles," she said by way of explanation.

"What?" Clarke asked—apparently her explanation wasn't good enough.

"We were working on the wall and some kid on the top dropped a knife. Ginna pushed me out of the way but it caught her forehead on the way down," Octavia explained, having the gall to actually sound _exasperated. _

_I got my head sliced open for you! _Ginna thought angrily. One of Charlotte's friends, Cobb was working on top of the wall, as he was light enough to be up there without it falling down, and dropped the knife he was using. Octavia had been standing just below him, but Ginna pushed her out of the way. A split open forehead was not exactly the thanks she'd been looking for.

Clarke guided her over to a makeshift table and helped her sit upon it. "That was pretty brave of you," she murmured as she began cleaning the gash with a rag soaked in the same seaweed tea they'd made for Jasper. Ginna's automatic reflex was to shrink away from Clarke's touch, but the other girl's cool fingers had a steady touch, so she forced herself to relax.

"Ha!" Ginna snorted at Clarke's words. Brave? Hardly. "Bellamy would have my head if anything happened to his sister—not that I wouldn't have saved you anyway," she said quickly to Octavia, "but you know what I mean—Ow!" she hissed as Clarke began to stitch the wound back together. When had she gotten out the suture kit? "Dammit Clarke, that hurts!"

"Sorry," Clarke apologized. She didn't look that sorry, however. "Octavia, can you hold her hand?"

Octavia nodded and took one of Ginna's hands tightly in her own. Ginna was thankful for the gesture; if nothing else, at least she could distract herself from the pain by trying to break a couple of fingers so someone else could be suffering with her.

"What's going on in here?"

All three girls turned to face the entrance to the dropship. Bellamy was standing in the doorway, the parachute pulled partly to the side and the sunlight from outside silhouetting his strong frame and aggressive stance. Ginna couldn't see the expression on his face because of the glare, but she had a feeling it wasn't a happy one.

"Medicine, Bellamy," Clarke sighed. "What does it look like?"

Octavia snorted quietly. Bellamy let the parachute drop and stepped inside.

"What happened to her?" he asked Clarke—demanded more like.

"_She_ is right here," Ginna snapped. She was still annoyed with him from earlier.

Bellamy spared her a cursory glance. "I wasn't asking you."

Octavia dropped Ginna's hand and crossed her arms. "God, lay off her, Bell. Some kid on top of the wall dropped his knife, and she pushed me out of the way." There was a moment of silence, as Bellamy's expression turned awkward—in the face of his sister's ire or embarrassment for being rude to Ginna after she had _saved _that same sister—it was hard to say. "Exactly, so why don't you give her a pat on the head for being a good dog, and leave us alone?"

Bellamy crossed his arms, mirroring his sister's stance. Did those two realize how similar they were? Probably not.

Ginna cleared her throat, awkwardly breaking the tension. "I'd actually rather no one touched my head right now—except Clarke, obviously."

Octavia relaxed, but Bellamy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the set of his jaw so stubborn it was almost comical.

"Bellamy, you're agitating my patient, so I think you should leave," Clarke said matter-of-factly. Ginna narrowed her eyes slightly at the blonde. Bellamy wasn't _agitating_ her.

Bellamy seemed to be of a similar opinion. "I'm not going anywhere," he said.

Wait, no. She wanted him to leave. If not agitating, he was certainly annoying. "Why not?" Ginna asked, wincing and taking a sharp breath as Clarke returned to stitching up her forehead. "There's got to be something more interesting happening somewhere on this damn planet."

Bellamy's gaze lingered on the cut on her forehead, its intensity almost bearing a physical heat. Then, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the dropship. Well, that was weird.

"What is his _problem?" _Octavia asked, taking up Ginna's hand again with an uncomfortably firm grip.

"God complex, probably," Clarke said with a slight shrug.

Ginna looked at the blonde in mild disbelief. "Somehow I didn't expect you to have a sense of humor."

Clarke paused in her suturing and met her gaze. There was something steely in those clear eyes that Ginna couldn't help but respect. "I could say the same thing about you," Clarke said.

"Touché," Ginna said, chuckling. Maybe Clarke wasn't so bad, after all. Maybe, but probably not.

* * *

…

* * *

After getting her head stitched up, Ginna returned to the wall with Octavia. They were using a makeshift saw to strip a fallen tree of branches so it could be used on the wall. Dropship metal, though strong, was dangerous to use without accidentally slicing your hands open; the work was slow going. Octavia's face was slicked with sweat and tinted red, and Ginna had no doubt that she was just as flushed.

They paused so Octavia could remove her jacket and Ginna could wipe the sweat from her brow, taking care to avoid her stitches. Ginna leaned over and braced her hands on her knees, panting heavily. She'd never worked so hard in her life, and the blistering sunlight wasn't helping matters. But then the sunlight disappeared as a shadow landed across her back. She looked up into Bellamy's face. He was unhappy about something, as usual.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, hands braced on his narrow hips.

Ginna hung her head slightly, still bent double. "Building a wall?" she grumbled before standing straight and pointing to Octavia. "Keeping an eye on your sister?"

His deepening scowl indicated that he might not be appreciative of her attitude. _Too bad. _"You just got your face sliced open," he said, as if she had to be reminded—the wound was throbbing.

"Observant."

Bellamy's eyes rolled back slightly as he took a deep breath. "Don't you think you should take it easy?"

Take it easy? He was the one that had assigned her this job just that morning!

"What do you want me to do, Bellamy—stand around and give orders like Murphy?" She looked pointedly towards the boy in question where he was standing with John, arms crossed as he surveyed the laboring delinquents with a superior smile on his face. "No thank you."

"Jesus…" Bellamy breathed, shaking his head at her. Why was he so annoyed with her? She hadn't done anything wrong! "Look—Charlotte's having a hard time with that rope. Just go—help her or something."

Ginna stared at him for a moment, taking in the unrelenting hardness of his eyes. "Fine," she agreed. There were more important battles. Bellamy nodded in satisfaction and left, so Ginna turned to Octavia who had been watching their interaction with barely veiled interest. "I'm gonna be helping Charlotte. Apparently I'm an invalid now," she said with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

Octavia laughed. "Yeah sure—slacker," she teased with a grin.

So Ginna made her way over to Charlotte who was struggling to unknot a length of parachute cord. "You look a little tangled up. Need some help?" she asked, smiling down at the younger girl

"No," Charlotte grumbled without looking up from her task. But then she paused, and glanced at Ginna with a sheepish expression. "Maybe a little."

After only a minute of struggling to untangle the cord—a task that was proving borderline impossible—Charlotte cleared her throat slightly and looked up to Ginna with wide, nervous eyes. "I, um, heard some people talking about you," she said, her voice small.

"And what did you hear?" Ginna asked, keeping her tone pleasant even though she knew exactly where this conversation was going.

"Is it true that you killed somebody on the Ark?"

And there it was.

"It is." Ginna answered truthfully; there was no sense in lying to the girl. "He was hurting someone I cared about."

Charlotte's brow creased slightly, and she asked, "who?"

"My mom. Before my dad was floated, he told me to look after my mother, so that's what I did." Ginna replied, not offering any more details. That was a story someone so young did not need to hear. "But—Charlotte, you should understand this—I acted in the moment, and I wasn't thinking. I was scared. Killing him wasn't the right thing to do, and I should have made a different choice. I know that now." It was a lie, for the most part. Ginna _knew _it had been the wrong thing to do, but presented with the situation a second time, she would follow the same course. She always would, and she didn't know what kind of person that made her.

"I understand," Charlotte nodded solemnly. Then she dropped the cord and focused her gaze on the ground. "Ginna, can I talk to you?"

"We're talking right now."

"No, um, privately?"

Ginna took a moment to take in the girl's body language: hunched shoulders, clenched fists, dark circles under her downcast eyes. "Uh, ok. Hold on," she said, tapping Charlotte on the shoulder once before she turned, looking for someone in the crowd of delinquents who she could trust for a few minute. "Hey! Jasper!" she called, spotting the gangly teen sorting through a pile of nuts and berries.

"Yeah?" he answered, walking over to her.

"Can you cover for me and keep an eye on Octavia for a few minutes?"

"Oh—I uh—yeah love to—I mean…no problem." It was like she'd just handed him a million ration cards; she had to resist the urge to laugh.

"Thanks. I'll be in my tent if you need anything," she said before collecting Charlotte and herding her away from the work site and into their tent.

But it didn't seem that Charlotte was quite ready to talk. They'd been sitting on their beds for several minutes, neither saying a word. She wanted to be there for Charlotte, but Ginna didn't have time to wait around. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on?" she pressed.

Charlotte nodded. "I did something," she whispered. "Something bad."

Ginna wasn't sure why, but something icy was settling in her gut. Call it intuition, but she just knew that something was terribly wrong. "We've all done bad things. I just told you about what I did," she encouraged.

When Charlotte met her gaze, her eyes were wide and glassy. "And you said it was the wrong choice."

"It was, but I did it anyway," Ginna said, trying to be comforting. She wasn't sure she was cut out for such a thing, however. "Charlotte, whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I thought I found the way to make them stop."

"The nightmares?" Ginna asked. Charlotte had been having nightmares on a nightly basis. Ginna knew how it felt, so of course she wanted the other girl to find a way to stop them, but…but something wasn't right.

"Bellamy said I had to slay my demons so I could sleep," Charlotte said, her voice growing desperate.

Ginna nodded; she remembered the younger girl telling her that a few nights ago. It was sound advice, if a bit abstract.

"So I did."

Wait, _what did that mean? _Ginna would always remember the next words that passed her lips. Would always wonder what would have happened if she'd never asked. Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything if she'd just nodded and sent Charlotte on her way, but she never know.

"Charlotte…what did you do?"

"I just couldn't keep looking at his face! You said yours stopped when you woke up, but mine never did!" Charlotte was tugging at the neckline of her shirt as if it was strangling her. She was pleading with Ginna for something, desperate for it.

"Charlotte! You need to calm down and tell me what happened so that I can help you, ok?" Ginna reached out to the other girl and pried her hands from her shirt, grasping them tightly.

Charlotte took a deep breath, panic and desperation stark on her young face.

"I killed Wells."

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...

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**What'd you think? Feel free to let me know in a review ;)**

**So as you may or may not have noticed, I'm stretching the timeline of the show a little bit. It won't be super noticeable, just throwing in an extra day here and there. It gives me more opportunities to write stuff that doesn't come straight out of an episode. **

**Next chapter: Murphy's a dick, Finn's a dick, Ginna loses her temper, and some people make some rash decisions...**

**A big big thank you to everyone who has followed/favorited/reviewed this story! I am so flattered that you're all enjoying it. **


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